Take It Back

Blessed Samhain! Happy Halloween! Pick whichever you like, but I'd just like you to know that Samhain (pronounced s-ow-en) is basically the most important religious celebration to me. You see, I'm a Witch. Most of the traditions I've pursued have had Celtic roots. Samhain is an ancient Celtic holiday or "sabbat" as (Neo-)Pagan traditions have adopted. For us, it's the new year and a time when we are closest to our dead loved ones as well as everything else that lies beyond the veil of the physical world. My ancestors also celebrated the riches that they reaped from that year's harvest on this day. It is a sacred and special day to us. England later adopted it as Hallow's Eve, for it was the precursor to All Souls Day, a day when the dead walk the earth. But the Celts weren't the only people to celebrate Halloween. Halloween has appeared in different incarnations all over the world, including as the ever-popular Day of the Dead celebration in Mexico.

Since the dead are so plentiful, Earth is jam-packed and we're in good company today. Smile like its the risus-sardonicus you've always wanted!

Samhain is rich in culture and lore. You've probably already heard all about how Halloween is old school and about how the archetypal "witch" hag came from. Nonetheless, many pagans celebrate that iconography today. A lot of us do set out food as offerings human and non-human spirits, light fires, do divination, and party like rock stars in the name of the dead. That's what I do, anyway. It's a religious obligation, don't ya know. And that's why I'll never go to work on that day.

Back in the day, everyone agreed that Samhain was important. It's an old and legitimate holiday unlike Columbus Day or Valentine's Day which both have their own gruesome roots and unnecessary place staked out on our calendars. Why can't we just get our priorities straight and honor the days that deserve it the most? Honestly, I don't know anyone with an excessive love for Columbus Day culture. Hell, I wouldn't care if it vanished off of the face of my calendar. But life would be much cooler if we had Halloween off. (Not that I'm opposed to making other usages of that day and still have it off.)

Think about it: how cool would life be if we had Halloween off and we treated it like the valid holiday that it actually is?

Fortunately, I've never had any serious problems getting off from work on Halloween. I have more than enough documentation to confirm my religion. In my letters to professors and phone calls to bosses, I always offered "proof" if that's what they needed. I've been writing some variation of "pagan" on all of my forms since I was thirteen of fourteen so that there would never be any question about my religious affiliation if it ever became relevant, such as if I died or needed Samhain off.

Wouldn't you like Samhain off too? Just thought I'd put that out there since I think about it all year round. Halloween is a lifestyle.

"Are You Feeling Uncomfortable Yet?"

When I first heard about Dear White People, it was because of the trailer I saw attached with an Indiegogo campaign. It was a satirical look at modern race relations, with the perspective being from a young black woman hosting a radio show called “Dear White People.” The woman imparted lessons to the white students of her predominantly white college campus about black people, informing them that you need at least two black friends to not be considered and that it would be considered racist to date outside your race just to piss off your parents. It was quite an intriguing trailer, one that worked successfully for the Indiegogo campaign, which raised $40,000 instead of the original goal of $25,000. Directed by first-time director Justin Simien, the film premiered at Sundance Film Festival earlier this year. The film follows four black students at a fictional Ivy League school. Sam (Tessa Thompson) hosts “Dear White People” and continues to crusade against people and programs she finds racist. Troy (Brandon P. Bell) tries to get along with the rich white kids to appease his father, the Dean of Students. Colondrea, or Coco (Teyonah Parris), tries to get cast on a reality show and tries to depart from her lower class Chicago background by acting white. Lionel (Tyler James Williams) conflicts with being a black and gay and facing bullying from multiple fronts. Their stories all entwine around one Halloween party where some white kids host a “black” themed party. Chaos, satire, and emotional arcs ensue. When you look at a satirical film, I think it helps to figure out what the film was attempting to do, how it approached the subject, and how successful it was on those fronts. The film's central purpose is spelled out in the title of the film, making it clear that the film is supposed to inform ignorant white people certain things about black people that they might not understand. This ranges from asking white people to not touch a black person's hair to making it clear that you really shouldn't say the n-word just because it appears in a rap song you're listening and singing along to.

Richmond Fall Fashion Week Review

Last Friday night was the launch of Richmond's Fall Fashion Week Jewelry Designer Showcase. Rocking my best autumn attire (black, boots, and a beanie), I marched over to what is the Financial District by day to Haxall Point. This season was marked by a variety of materials ranging from upcycled bullet bracelets, polymer clay necklaces, bone from jewelry designers to bright colors and dreamy scapes from painters.

With everyone dressed in their city-best, I grabbed a beer and window-shopped with a few friends to see what's buzzing in Richmond's craft-bauble scene:

Halloween goes to the Dogs

Halloween is a holiday of excess. I mean, so are Christmas and Thanksgiving, but on Halloween there is no shame. Other holidays are also about spending time with family and doing good things for the community, and even though plenty of us don’t do those things, there is a sense that we should. Not on Halloween, though. You can dress in your skimpiest outfit, gorge yourself on candy, and stay up all night without any shame.The holiday of debauchery is actually the one that has taught me the most about behaving like an adult. I learned what happens when you drink too much and stay up all night at a stranger’s party in college. When I was very young I learned a hard lesson about disrespect, both for people and things, and what that can bring down.

I was nine years old, and my sister and I had just returned from trick-or-treating each with a huge haul of candy. None of the elderly people in my neighborhood had recognized my Sailor Mercury costume, but in spite of that it was a good night. We set about sorting our loot.

My sister and I had very different approaches to Halloween candy. I fully embraced the excess of Halloween and ate as much candy as I could stuff into my face that night, and then every night until it was gone. She would savor, having maybe one piece of candy a day, very measured and responsible. One year, she managed to make her candy last all the way to the next Halloween.

These systems were not compatible. I ran out of candy within a few days, while her massive sack sat in her room, uneaten, mocking me. Inevitably the urge to get some sugar in me became too strong, and I would sneak some of her candy. I always intended to only take a piece or two, but inevitably greed got the best of me and I would grab large handfuls of candy, several times a day. Then my sister would notice, and there would be a fight. This happened every year.

How Humanity Approaches Death

Every culture has its own way to preserve, or not to preserve, the bodies of the deceased. Practices vary according to beliefs, traditions, and geographic locations. As it is nearing Halloween, I got to thinking about the different ways that humanity approaches death and the wide range of beliefs abot the afterlife across the world. Most everyone in the Western world is familiar with Christian graveyards. The old stones crosses and faded names and dates are often the common symbols that remind people of death, ghosts, the otherworldly, and the unseen. Christians believe that the soul will journey to Heaven if the person has done good deeds throughout his or her life, or Hell if the person was sinful and harmful. The person is has only one life and one body, so the body is often preserved in burial. Most of us are familiar with the traditional Western practice of relatives and friends viewing the body to pay their final respects. Everyone wears black, the colors of mourning in the Western world. But beliefs of what happens after death, funeral practices, and traditions are infinitely varied throughout the world. In the Hindu tradition, people wear white to a funeral, but in the Western world that would be unacceptable and quite rude. Here are some of the beliefs and practices of some of the major cultures and religions throughout the world. All the traditions vary even within each religion and culture, according to the observance of practice:

The Wonder of Punk Poetry Night

Friday, October 17th was Punk Poetry Night atKreators in Mount Sinai, New York. I’ve yet to come across an event fully combines my two passions (punk and poetry). I’ve seen poets give readings during show sets, but I’ve never heard of a place or event that puts the poetry first. And not just any poetry but poetry with punk elements like blood, booze, and the radical, freedom-loving rhetoric that we know and love. (Well, those of us with good taste, anyway.)

Usually, the only poetry that I get out of the punk shows I attend are lyrics. After a show, I’m rendered lost in the dense fog of punk rock and good ideas. But I shall never confine my musings to my head, notebook, papers, or webpages, even to wonderful ones likeQuail Bellwhere readers might appreciate them. There's something magical about live poetry.

By the combined powers of poetry and punk, I pronounced my wish granted when I brought up the idea of a punk poetry night to Robin Petersen Witt and Ken-e-Bones ofNegative Reaction. Hey, Kreators is a place “where artists gather” and they welcome literary artists—as well as punks—with open arms.Bringing poetry to the masses is a noble cause. As my native language, I’ve always felt that it was my duty to promote awareness to keep poetry from dropping off the face of our pages. Poetry is language at full blast. It blares into our souls like distorted guitars and drumbeats. Reading poetry by Edgar Allan Poe and Charles Baudelaire gives me a thrill and cynic brilliance that is akin to the endorphin-avalanche that crashes over me when I listen to punk. It is the ectoplasm that pours out of my eyes, nose, ears, and mouth upon coming in contact with other worlds. Like nervous urination, I can only contain it for so long until it gets out of control.

Or, Everything is Basil Hayden's Down Here and Nothing Hurts

Section A: An Anecdote I grew up being told that moving north, everyone would look at me like I had nine heads and they all couldn’t talk right. I got a very good taste of this when I was a senator/delegate for J.J. Kelly’s Mock General Assembly team. During the dance, I ran back up to my room, dodging my sponsor. I sat down in the Richmond Marriott lobby with my copy of 2666 by Roberto Bolano around a bunch of people (because that’s who I was) all discussing the slight margin the gay marriage ruling passed by in our fake Virginia. I voted for it and wanted to talk to people who agreed with a ruling I felt strong about. I spoke up. A girl from Hampton, Virginia looked at me and asked where I was from. I said Wise, Virginia. She said her mother was from Pound, Virginia. Then that she was surprised she was intelligent. I went, oh. I sat down and sulked with 2666. Until someone mentioned Twitter. I spoke up. “Oh, what’s Twitter?” I had recently gotten one because of my obsession with Free Darko, probably the single most important influence in my adolescent life besides HBO, Faulkner, and being impossible. “It’s like Facebook.” They looked at me. “You know what that is, right?” “No idea.” They very calmly explained Facebook to me. Admittedly, I just thought it was just MySpace, but I knew it existed. I feigned ignorance of the Internet. Same thing.

Protecting Your Power

Reyhaneh Jabbari, an Iranian woman, was hanged on Saturday for murdering the man who raped her. As I was researching this horrifying event, I couldn't help but look past the man-made laws humans are expected to follow, and instead focus on whether this was the right karmic action. Was it right for Jabbari to kill this man who robbed her of her dignity and power? And further, how do you reclaim your power after it has been stolen violently from you?

Jabbari's story is not an uncommon one. Rape victims, who are primarily women, often remain silent. Along with the heavy weight of guilt, shame, fear, sorrow, and anger that a victim must battle with every day, how does one heal the scar that has to be hidden under more than just clothes?

The new generation of women, such as Emma Watson and Warsan Shire, are celebrating equal gender roles and encouraging the freedom to be a human being. Despite our biological differences, gender is subjective. We wear what we want to show, yet harbor both masculine and feminine traits. As humans, we hide what is considered "weak," which is typically anything in the feminine Gender Venn Diagram. But what happens when you hide the empty space from where it is stolen?

It's Novel Writing Season

I admit it, I’m one of those girls who loves autumn. It’s the season for me. When the weather breaks, I get to pull most of my clothes out of my closet and finally start wearing what I really like to wear—scarves, boots, cardigans, hoodies, tights, socks, and hats. When the leaves start to fall from trees, it means I get to transition back to hot coffee, which really just is more satisfying than cold coffee. It means that all of the holidays based on eating are on their way and I can put aside my insecurities about my body to eat my weight in Halloween candy, Thanksgiving pies, and Christmas cookies. But there’s one other autumn event on the horizon that has me squirming with nerves and excitement. It’s almost November, my friends, which means it’s almost time for National Novel Writing Month! National Novel Writing Month—or NaNoWriMo for short—is a yearly event where people put aside time and commit to writing a novel of 50,000 words in the month of November. Instead of re-watching three episodes of Doctor Who on Netflix each evening, people are sitting down and cranking out 1,667 words in order to meet daily word counts. Rather than scrolling Tumblr, checking Twitter, or Facebook stalking exes, determined people sit down in front of their computers on the first November and stand up as authors on the first of December.

Fingertips (Pt. Three)

From the time I saw her in the summer before 7th grade, I thought Melanie Shumacher was the most beautiful girl I’d ever see. Girls were a dicey thing: They seemed to want so little to do with me, and I had no idea what to do with them. That first day, Melanie looked right through me, even though my eyes and mouth were wide open and plainly in view. The pain of 7th grade affairs. However, as unsophisticated as I was, even I knew that when I saw Melanie, my life in the coming years would be utterly hopeless. Melanie dyed her hair some version of burnt orange, which didn’t exactly hide her brown roots. I’m thinking that even now her hair is that same shade of orange, the one lost in my spectrum. So what was so special about her? Why are certain people beautiful to us? Is this about aesthetics or desire? Or simple youthful infatuation? Even my normally reticent and taciturn father pronounced Melanie beautiful when she was thirteen. That sounds creepy, I know, but I promise you, my Dad was no creep. And anyway, his appreciation didn’t help me one bit.